NorWales Fluff
by RikerForgotHisGlasses
Summary: A ship that I adore. I wrote this for my friend Ash's birthday and I hope she enjoys it. Pairing is Norway x Wales so please enjoy! Just straight up fluff! Rated T for slight language.


As much as he protested that he wasn't sick, Dylan wasn't having any of his shite. One would think that the Kingdom of Norway would never ever get a cold what with their cold summers and even colder winters, but this was not true in the slightest. Lukas was sniffling and sneezing up a storm.

"I'm allergic to something in the air, that's all, Dill," the Nordic nation objected. The Welsh man snorted.

"Aye, sure. And I'm allergic to your bullshite. You're sick so get in bed and don't leave 'cept to use the bathroom," Dylan said sternly. "Else you'll just get yourself sicker and we don't want that. I'll just have to give all my lovin' to Dewey if that ends up happenin'." Lukas's violet eyes widened, then narrowed.

"You wouldn't," he said through a short coughing fit.

"I would, and you know it. Now get yer arse in bed and relax. I'll make ye some soup or somethin'," Dylan murmured, turning away from Lukas and going down the hall to the kitchen. Meanwhile, Lukas had gotten into the bed as his boyfriend had requested. He knew that Dylan really did care despite their arguing, if one could even call it that. And it was refreshing to have someone who cared for your wellbeing. After the fiasco with Mathias, Lukas wasn't sure he could ever love again. But this little Welsh man wormed his way into his heart with his freckles and his funny way of speaking and to his delight, it didn't seem as if he was leaving. The Norwegian had propped himself up with pillows, surrounding his torso with blankets. He couldn't remember ever feeling this cold in his life. Patiently, he waited for his dragon to come back.

Dylan knew one had soup when they were sick but looking through Lukas's pantry, he couldn't read the damn labels. Sure, he picked up a few words from the Nordic man, but those were mostly affectionate terms (and a few swears) but those weren't going to help him now. Finally, he grabbed a can he hoped was soup as it had a tomato on the can. Pouring it into a waiting pot, he noticed how chunky it was, but figured it was just how the Norwegians liked their soups.

"Just a traditional chicken noodle soup would do him wonders if I could find the damn can," Dylan mumbled to himself. He followed the directions to the best of his ability, only able to read the numbers on the side. After a while, the soup seemed to be finished. He didn't claim to be Chef Ramsay, but he'd say he did a damn fine job. Putting the soup into a bowl and then onto a tray, Dylan carried it back to the sick Norwegian who was expectantly waiting. The Welsh man placed the tray on Lukas's lap.

"Well, eat up then. It's gon' ta get cold if you don't," he said, motioning to the soup. Lukas looked down at the soup and then back at Dylan, suddenly covering his mouth.

"What? You need a tissue or something?" Lukas frantically shook his head, soft noises spilling from his lips.

"Out with it then! Haven't got all day, ye know," Dylan frowned, just a teensy bit annoyed. Lukas's hands dropped back down to his sides, his laughter more evident. Laughter was almost foreign to him, but when he laughed, he _really_ laughed. Dylan just stood there, watching his Norwegian dork of a boyfriend laugh so hard, he threw himself into another coughing fit. After catching his breath, Lukas finally explained.

"Dragon, you just gave me straight up stewed tomatoes. This isn't soup," he smiled kindly, another laugh threatening to escape. A light blush covered most of Dylan's face, but this would be denied later.

"Can't blame me. Can't read yer damn fairy language," he said stubbornly, just a hint of a pout on his face.

"I'm still eating it anyway because one, it's warm and two, it's because I appreciate it. You tried, Dill. I can't fault you for that. May I kiss you? Would that help ease the embarrassment?" Lukas asked, offering Dylan his hand.

"Yer sick, ye ain't gettin' kisses from me, that's for damn sure," Dylan answered, still a little pouty, completely ignoring Lukas's hand. Albeit slightly sad his request was denied, Lukas put his hand down and let his face return to its normal vacant look. Just as promised, he began to eat the tomatoes. Dylan took a seat in a chair. The two were comfortably silent until the Welsh man broke it.

"Ye'll get yer kisses once yer all better an' not a minute before," Dylan said, not like he felt obligated to give Lukas any sort of affection or anything. It was just a matter of keeping healthy, however the flash of sadness he saw in those violet eyes he admired made him rethink the whole thing. He always worried he was secretly hurting Lukas and Lukas was just too lovestruck to see it. The Norwegian was always considerate about Dylan's boundaries, so he could at least give him one teensy weensy kiss, right?

"Fine. But if I get sick, yer in for it," Dylan sighed, giving in. The look on Lukas's face was all he ever wanted to see for the rest of his life. Curse this cheesiness he's acquired from this man. He got up from the chair, coming to stand beside Lukas, leaning down slightly.

"One kiss on the lips and that's it," he said, firmly but softly. Lukas was just pleased to be able to give his caring boyfriend a kiss. Careful as to not spill the bowl, the Norwegian placed a sweet, gentle kiss upon Dylan's lips. Afterwards, he relaxed back onto the bed.

"That's for the soup," Lukas smirked, continuing to eat the tomatoes.

"I'm never going to hear the end of this am I?"

"I'll be sure to tell all the Nordics how my boyfriend who is too good to learn Norwegian served me stewed tomatoes, thinking it was soup. The word you're looking for is 'suppe' by the way. It's easy if you just try. Babe. Did you know Norwegian is one of the easiest languages for English speakers to learn? I know English isn't your first language, but still," Lukas rambled. Dylan wasn't sure he ever heard this many words come from Lukas's mouth before. Must be the sickness.

"Aye, all right. Shut yer trap and eat yer damn suppe or whatever," Dylan said, accompanying this with an eyeroll. Not one to be told twice, Lukas quieted down, starting to eat again.

"Thanks," he mumbled, almost inaudible.

"Yer welcome," Dylan replied, resting his arse in the chair again. Silence fell upon them once more. After a while, Lukas finished his "soup".

"Now, yer gon' ta take a nap. I'll be back in an hour," the Welsh man said. "Don't expect me to slave in the kitchen over yer meals anymore. Ye need rest, Lukas. I want ye better." Lukas was going to argue after hearing the word "nap", but after Dylan's closing sentence, he thought better of it.

"I'll get better then. For you," Lukas said, letting out a yawn. Dylan just rolled his eyes.

"No, get better for yerself. I'm only here to aid ye along. Sleep now, little troll," he whispered, a light blush on his face.

"Goodnight, big dragon," Lukas breathed, adjusting the pillows so he could lay down. He coughed a few times as Dylan took the tray out of the room, closing the door behind him. Turning off the light, the Norwegian man closed his eyes, falling asleep.

With Dylan's aid, Lukas got better in less than two days. He was mighty pleased with this fact, one could tell by the smirk on his face. The color had returned to his cheeks and his sarcasm levels were through the roof. Dylan was glad to have his boyfriend up to snuff once more. One can't help but worry when someone they love is sick, as there is a slight possibility that they won't ever get better. But Norway's economy was good, his people were happy, and it was only a cold after all. The night that Lukas was able to get out of bed permanently, the two watched movies, cuddling. Lukas made sure his hands were where Dylan could see them, and they never ever went below his waist. Once Lukas felt that bellybutton, he knew he needed to move his hands back up. The movie they were watching went to commercial.

"Can I have my kisses now? I think you owe me several," Lukas said, eyes shining with admiration and a hint of playfulness.

"Several? Count again, butt. It's only one or two I owe ye. Not several," Dylan responded, looking away from the television.

"Kiss, please?" Lukas asked, sounding a little whiny but only for effect. Dylan made a show of giving in.

"All right, ye can kiss me," he relented, a playful smirk on his face. loved affection but loved Dylan even more and he felt really special when Dylan allowed him kisses. He gently cupped the Welsh man's face with his hands, giving him a gentle Eskimo kiss before pressing his lips against Dylan's. He never made the kisses long (unless they were making out which was rare), and he always asked for permission for another kiss when the kiss had ended. Almost always, Dylan would say yes, touched by his boyfriend's consideration, even now. The kiss ended nearly as quickly as it had begun and almost immediately, Lukas asked for permission again.

"Ye have permission for the next three kisses," Dylan murmured, lazily looking down at his boyfriend.

"Thought you didn't owe me more than two?" Lukas teased, rubbing his thumb over his lover's freckles.

"I'm givin' ye kisses outta the kindness of my heart," Dylan hummed, meeting the Norwegian's loving gaze. It always gave him chills when he saw that look and knew it was just for him.

"How kind of you. You truly are the man of my dreams," Lukas said, pressing another kiss to Dylan's chapped and waiting lips.

"Enough with yer cheesiness, butt," Dylan mumbled. Three (and a half) kisses later, Lukas settled back down on the couch, resting his head on Dylan's shoulder. The movie wasn't really interesting to the Nordic man, but he relished in the chance to be with his boyfriend.

"Don't ever let me watch this movie again, unless I'm drunk," the Welsh man said once the movie had finished. Lukas patted his arm.

"I'm holding you to that, ya know," he smirked, playfully pushing Dylan away.

"Thank God I'll be drunk," Dylan grinned, a teasing lilt to his voice.

"One more kiss before bedtime, dragon?" Lukas asked, tilting his head slightly and widening his beautiful eyes. Dylan's own looked back at the other country's defiantly. Puppy dog eyes did no good on him.

"No kisses at all, unless you quit that childish act," Dylan said, crossing his arms.

"Dragon?" Lukas asked, his voice soft, barely above a whisper. The pouty look was replaced by a look Dylan knew all too well. A sign that Lukas was going to get mushy. He didn't mind it as much as he pretended too. In all honesty, he kind of liked that mushy stuff. To an extent.

"Ye? What is it, Lu?" Dylan questioned, giving him his undivided attention.

"I know you don't like this kind of thing, so I'll keep it brief. I love you. Even when you tease and flirt and everything," Lukas whispered. Honestly, he could go on and on but that would take hours they could spend sleeping and spooning. Spooning was something they recently got into. Lukas liked being the little spoon a lot, he felt like his boyfriend was protecting him, even in sleep.

"I love ye too, Lukas. Let's get to bed before ye start melting from the cheese yer spewing," Dylan said, only slightly blushing from Lukas's words. Turning off the TV, the blonde man walked to his bedroom, climbing into his bed and under the covers. Dylan followed shortly after. They both looked into each other's eyes, content for a silent moment.

"That's my shirt," Lukas said at last.

"Nah, I bought it," Dylan answered, bringing the covers up over himself more to hide the shirt just a little.

"Oh? Where did you buy it from?" Lukas wondered, trying to pull the covers back down.

"The store, ye troll," Dylan said, tempted to turn over.

"I'm too tired to argue with you. Kiss goodnight?" Lukas inquired, a hand already cupping Dylan's face.

"All right," Dylan said. Lukas's goodnight kisses were feather light, lingering upon his lips long after he pulled away.

"Goodnight, Dill," Lukas breathed, turning over and snuggling back against Dylan's warmth.

"Goodnight, ye butt," Dylan whispered, carefully wrapping an arm around Lukas, above his waist. The Norwegian man respected his boundaries so Dylan would respect his. Both countries closed their eyes. The only sounds were of nighttime life. The peacefulness was disturbed by a loud sneeze from Dylan. It made Lukas jump, heart racing until he realized what it was.

"No more kisses for you until you're better," Lukas murmured sleepily.


End file.
